


To Quote Vince Lombardi, If Winning Isn't Everything, Why Do They Keep Score?

by Tex



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU, M/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-15
Updated: 2010-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tex/pseuds/Tex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is only trying to help. But it backfires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Quote Vince Lombardi, If Winning Isn't Everything, Why Do They Keep Score?

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to Crysothemis for beta.

TITLE: To Quote Vince Lombardi, If Winning Isn't Everything, Why Do They Keep Score?  
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay  
Spoilers: None/AU, 1,811 words

This is a story from a vague AU I have in mind, where John is a rich pretty boy and Rodney is a hard working academic/researcher and they're married and living happily ever after, with the occasional evening that works out like this...

 

Rodney appears in John's peripheral vision, giving John a vague sense of hands-on-hips annoyance. "How did I let you talk me into this?"

John finishes tying his shoe then sits up and grins at him. "You were naked at the time?"

"Possibly. But just so I'll be able to face myself in the mirror, tell me again why we're doing this crazy thing."

"You want that grant, don't you? Well, these guys can give it to you."

"Honestly, how is this science? I should be toiling away in my lab, creating a cure for disease through nanotechnology. But where am I on a Saturday night? Going on bended knee to a corporate jackal like Agnitek – "

"It's Agilent, Rodney. Get the name right, jeez."

"Why does a corporation have a suite at a college football stadium anyway? Is this some American custom that I'm unaware of?"

John loses a little focus at the reminder of the evening's activities – it's been way too long since he'd jostled shoulders with a crowd of likeminded football fanatics. Rodney will, on occasion, sit down with him when he watches a game on TV but he's always put his foot down at actually attending one. Until today.

And they're going to watch from a suite – comfortable chairs and TVs with instant replay and free beer and _finger foods._ "You mean other than because football is the sport of the gods?"

Rodney glares at him. "Don't get me started."

John goes to Rodney and fixes his wonky collar. "People buy suites at football stadiums so they can schmooze and kiss up to people. And even better, have people schmooze and kiss up to them."

Rodney bats at his hands and stares. "Oh, my God. Your family has one of these things, don't they?"

John's face gets hot. Great. That's what he gets for falling for a genius. "So what if they do? What's it to you, McKay?" He goes to the closet and makes a big show of searching for his binoculars.

"John?"

"What?"

"How did we happen to get this invitation?"

John sighs and turns around. "Fine. I went to school with the CFO. I called him. So sue me."

"I'd like to but since this is a community property state, I'd be, in effect, suing myself. So is this a set up? The decision has already been made?"

"No, the decision hasn't been made. You still have to lure them in with your blazingly fast mind and your Canadian charm." John slaps him in the back of the head. "So, you play nice tonight, got it? Check the attitude at the door."

"_Ow._ Also, really? Are you kidding me?"

"For the last time, do you want this grant or not?"

"Yes, I want it."

"Well, all you have to do is kiss a little ass tonight and you'll have it."

Rodney crosses his arms. He looks mulish and really hot. "There happens to be only one ass that I'm interested in kissing," he mutters darkly.

"That's real sweet but don't change the subject. Listen, buddy, I'll make you a deal. You sweet talk a few big cheeses tonight and I'll – tonight, when we get back, I'll make it worth your while."

"Huh. Would you care to be more specific?"

"No. But my effort will be directly proportional to yours."

Rodney gives him a heated look. "I love it when you talk math."

John leans in and kisses Rodney's cheek. "Was that a yes to the schmoozing? Because we need to get going."

"It's a yes. But no one better flirt with you or all bets are off."

"Of course. Now let's go."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Less than three hours later, they're back and John slams the front door behind them. He walks into the kitchen and grabs a beer out of the fridge and slams that door, too, just so Rodney gets the message.

He does. He comes running as soon as he hears the sound of glass jars colliding.

"Hey, watch it. I've got a jar of Sicilian olives in there."

John downs a couple of deep swallows of beer then glares at Rodney meaningfully.

"What? What did I do?" Rodney pushes him aside and opens the refrigerator door again, checking his olives and giving them a loving pat before carefully closing it again.

John grinds his teeth and elbows past Rodney. He downs half his beer on the way to the bedroom. He didn't eat much at the game and the alcohol is starting to hit him. It's probably not the best state for him to be in right now but he's mad enough not to give a fuck. He's ready for this night to be over and as soon as he's gets a minute, he's going to put a note in his iPhone to call Dave and tell him to 86 the donations to Agilent's corporate charity.

The remote is in its usual spot, next to his side of the bed and John grabs it before he sits down on the foot of the bed. The game is still on, of course. The fourth quarter has just started and it's still tied, 13 to13. John steams silently. One of the best defensive displays in USC's history and he's missed most of it --

"John. Haven't we had enough football for one night?"

John steadfastly keeps his eyes on the TV. It's third and eleven and the Trojans are showing a pro-style flex defense. "No, _we_ haven't," John says with as much sarcasm as he can muster.

"Then why did we leave? You said you were ready to go."

Slowly, John turns his head to look at Rodney. "Do you have any idea what a turn-off it is when you try to play dumb?"

Rodney rolls his eyes and sits down next to him. "Okay. I can see that you're legally intoxicated right now so my only question is how far are we going with this? Because after enduring two and a half hours of a football game, which doesn't include the pre-game, by the way, I'm a little tired and irritable and it won't take much for me to stop being the compassionate husband and start being the pissed off guy."

John starts to talk, starts to let loose of everything that's been building since they arrived at the stadium. He even gets the first syllable out before he notices that Rodney's eyes _are_ a little bloodshot, before he remembers that none of what happened was Rodney's fault. The whole stupid evening had been _his_ bright idea and John's more mad at himself than at Rodney.

He deflates completely and tips sideways to rest his head on Rodney's shoulder. "You were right," John says on a deep breath, closing his eyes when the room starts to spin. "This was a terrible idea."

Rodney lets his head rest against John's. "Not entirely. I got the grant."

John sits up and gapes at Rodney's smug smile. "What? When did that happen?"

"After you flounced out of the suite. Your friend -- what was his name? Mitch? -- told me. I think he was afraid I'd file a sexual harassment suit."

John's stomach drops uncomfortably. "I'll back you up if you decide to."

Rodney frowns and grabs the beer out of John's hand. "Give me that. You're drunker than I thought."

"Huh?"

"Please.That wasn't sexual harassment, it was extreme annoyance. You can't be in the game as long as I have and be unfamiliar with the unsavory habits of Dr. Peter Kavanaugh. His reputation precedes him, okay? I had his number the whole time."

"Well, why didn't you tell me?" John snaps, knocking his shoulder into Rodney's."I thought you were flirting back."

"Yes, I know."

"Then what the hell?"

"It's usually me in this situation, getting all sulky while someone gorgeous and sexy bats their eyes at you. It was -- I don't know, kind of fun to have the tables turned for once."

"You think Kavanaugh is sexy?" He's really getting confused now. John didn't think it possible that Rodney could be attracted to a guy with a ponytail. He knows Rodney's type. _He's_ Rodney's type, dammit.

The next thing he knows Rodney is pulling him up to his feet. "That's it. We'll talk about this tomorrow when you're normal. Well, as normal as you get, that is."

"Shut up," John says but he's not mad anymore. In fact, he smiles because come to think of it,but he _does_ get flirted with a lot. If a man does it, John shuts it down quick because hey, he's got a man at home. But when women get flirty, John occasionally plays along because he knows it gets Rodney wound up. And there's nothing wrong with seeing your husband get a little jealous. Especially Rodney, who gets pink in the face and usually makes a remark so full of insult that it's all John can do to keep from laughing.

So, yeah, it's funny. Or maybe it's just the beer. But in any case, John has to admit that maybe Rodney owes him some payback. So he plays along when Rodney maneuvers him over to his side of the bed, allows Rodney to undress him and doesn't exactly cooperate so that Rodney's forced to manipulate John's arms and legs to strip him down to his boxers.

Rodney pulls back the covers and John climbs in. He allows Rodney to cover him up and kiss his forehead. Rodney starts to straighten up but John grabs Rodney's hand before he can.

John looks up at Rodney through heavy-lidded eyes. "Mine," he says, his voice low and rough, as if saying it like that is less teenage-girl and more scary ex-Air Force Special Ops. "Not sharing." And maybe its the beer after all because he's asleep in a heartbeat.

Sometime during the night, he turns over and encounters Rodney's warm body. John curls around him, pushing his face into the back of Rodney's neck, sighing when Rodney wiggles comfortably against him. Maybe this evening isn't a total loss after all, John thinks, wrapping an arm around Rodney's waist and pulling him even closer.


End file.
